


435. porcelain

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [236]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “All I wanted,” Helena says, and then stops. “All I’ve ever wanted,” she tries, and then stops, and then starts again: “was for us to be a family. That’s – the only thing.”Her voice is like a living thing, an animal all twisted up with loneliness. This would all be so much easier if Helena would justlieto her, so Sarah could hate her. That’s all Helena was supposed to do. Sarah would walk into her office, and Helena would lie to her, and Sarah would spit in her face, and then she would leave and feel triumphant. And yet: here they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [473\. chipped nail polish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711260) by [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09). 



> Continuation of the linked drabble.

Helena looks terrible sitting on Siobhan’s couch. It’s not that she looks – bad, or terrifying, or monstrous; it’s just how horribly out-of-place she is. Without the red screech of lipstick, with her long blonde hair wet and plastered to her back – god, in Sarah’s clothes. She just – it’s just. Too much. She’s picking at her nail polish, idly, lip sucked between her teeth in concentration. Alison drunk on her couch had looked young. Cosima standing in the door – _I’m so sorry_ – she’d looked young. Why do they all look so fucking young.

“Please sit down,” Helena says, without looking up from her fingers. (Flecks of gold are littering towards the carpet. They land on Helena’s bare wrists and it’s too much.) Ever since she showed up at Felix’s apartment shaking and covered in blood her voice has been too small. Sarah does not sit down.

Helena flicks her eyes up and studies her. “Are you still waiting for the DYAD to call.”

Sarah doesn’t say anything. Helena exhales through her nose and goes back to her fingers. “They won’t,” she says. “I shouldn’t say that, because then you’ll have no reason not to cast me out. But – I don’t want to lie to you. I’ve never wanted to lie to you, Sarah.”

 _Bullshit_ , Sarah wants to say; the word would be easy in her mouth, like a brick to throw through the glass window of Helena’s composure. But it _isn’t_ bullshit. Helena never wanted to lie to her. Sarah knows; Sarah can feel it. She folds her arms across her chest and sits down next to Helena on the couch. Hates it. Does it anyways.

“All I wanted,” Helena says, and then stops. _Scritch scritch scritch_ go her fingernails, loud in the silence; the sound is driving Sarah mad. “All I’ve ever wanted,” Helena says, and then stops, and then starts again: “was for us to be a family. That’s – the only thing.”

Her voice is like a living thing, an animal all twisted up with loneliness. This would all be so much easier if Helena would just _lie_ to her, so Sarah could hate her. That’s all Helena was supposed to do. Sarah would walk into her office, and Helena would lie to her, and Sarah would spit in her face, and then she would leave and feel triumphant. And yet: here they are on Siobhan’s couch, while Siobhan paces back and forth upstairs outside of Kira’s door waiting for a phone call that may not ever come.

Here they are. The two of them, sisters, sitting here. Helena’s hair drying, leaving blotches of water on the back of Sarah’s old Clash shirt. Helena probably knows that they could have grown up like this, sitting together their whole lives. It shouldn’t be a comforting weight, that Helena knows, but it is. They are both thinking the same thing. Maybe they’ve spent their lives dreaming all of the same dreams.

Sarah still hasn’t said anything. Helena is scratching frantically at her own fingernails, like a tic she can’t stop, and the sound is so animalistic and grating and frightened that of course Sarah reaches out and grabs Helena’s hands. Of course she does. Like it’s easy.

Helena stares at her, eyes wide and frightened. She isn’t wearing eyeshadow, or mascara. She isn’t wearing any makeup at all; her face is naked. Sarah can see every bit of fear on it.

“Stop,” she says.

Helena doesn’t say anything. She is perfectly still. Is she holding her breath? She might be holding her breath. Sarah lets her hands go – and Helena shudders into motion again, staring at her own hands as she folds them together on her lap.

“We’re not sending you back,” Sarah says. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Helena blinks at her. Her brow furrows minutely. “Why,” she breathes.

Sarah turns away from Helena and looks towards the kitchen. “You’re my sister,” she says, and looks down at her hands. Her thumbs are picking at each other, ripping her cuticles into ragged fragments. _Stop_ , she thinks to herself.

“I,” Helena says. Sarah risks looking at her. Helena is sitting with her hands in her lap, staring down at them. Her hair falls in limp twists over her face.

“You,” Sarah says coaxingly, and Helena looks up at her. She swallows. Her eyes skitter away, and then come crawling back.

“They might call,” she says, voice brittle and unconvincing. “You could barter me. My safety for yours. And Kira’s.” Her head tilts just slightly to one side. “You’d be wise to make that decision.”

“You’re my sister,” Sarah says again. This time she can see it hit Helena like a bomb. A smile blooms in the corners of her mouth before she crushes it down again.

“Christ,” Sarah says, “c’mere,” and before she can think better of it she slides over on the couch and pulls Helena into a hug. Helena in her arms is stiff and fragile, like a paper-mache facsimile of a real human being. Then suddenly she melts and her arms are clinging to Sarah tight. So tight. She’s trembling.

“I love you,” Helena whispers into her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Sarah says, and then soldiers on before she can decide whether or not that’s true. “It’ll all be alright,” she says. Helena lets out a shaky sigh and rests her chin on Sarah’s shoulder, like she believes her. Sarah can feel the wing-bones of Helena’s shoulders shifting under her palms. _Did you dream about me_ , she wants to say. It feels urgent to know. _I think I may have dreamed about you_.

 _Yes_ , Helena would say, and she would be certain, and it would be true. Sarah closes her eyes. She lets herself believe in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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